The Sketches
by Sar'Kalu
Summary: Up For Adoption. After a painful and unsuccessful class, Severus Snape returns to his office to find a curious drawing attached to his door. An insight to the mind of a timid and frightened student leaves Snape not only wondering at who the artist is, but questioning his own methods and preconceptions of himself and others.
1. The First Sketch

The first sketch appeared tacked to his office door three days after his first period and class of humiliating Potter. He was still delightfully smug about the entire deal, the green eyes had flashed with anger and sorrow at his harsh cutting words. Perhaps it was petty of him to to feel glad that he'd hurt an eleven year old child, regardless of their parentage, but he honestly didn't care. And so, after the last period of the day, a thursday to be exact, Severus Snape halted in front of his office door surprised to see a creamy piece of parchment hastily stuck to the rough wood. Nimble, elegant fingers plucked the parchment from the surface, and obsidian eyes glared at the picture.

It was crudely done. The lines and shadowing hastily and sloppily slapped onto the parchment. The boring angry eyes that leered down from a great height at the artist. It was clear the subject was himself, the large hooked nose and ugly features were twisted into a malevolent sneer. The eyes were filled with fire and anger, won't matter how young the student was, it was clear they were talented.

At the bottom was the title was written. _Intimidation_.

The picture raised a series of questions. One: who would draw this? Two: why would they be intimidated by him, he rather thought himself a stern but fair teacher. And certainly not a bully, no, that was something best left to Potter Senior and Black. He himself would _never_ stoop so low.

Snape scowled angrily at himself, it clearly was a prank and made no sense to him.. Whichever of his pathetic students had done this would be getting a years worth of detentions. And yet, it was intriguing. The artist had been stupid to draw this, but at the same time, there was a hint of recrimination of damnation, of all things, from them. _At him_. Severus studied the artwork, his mind for once dragged from its usual contemplation of potions and dunderheaded brats.

For the first time in a long time, Severus Snape was intrigued.


	2. The Second Sketch

The second piece of artwork that found its way to the door of Severus Snape's office was less interesting. After all, who would want to see a picture of a cupboard under the stairs?

The camp bed and ratty blankets that were placed within were of no notice to the Potions master. After all, it was hardly interesting but for the fact that the artists technique had seemingly improved.

Severus barely paid it any heed, but for the title. _The Other Side of the Coin. _

The title caught his eye. What did it mean? Was someone trying to tell him something? Severus sat up late, both pictures placed in front of him. Snape studied the pieces, trying to find the correlation, the link, between them. Two pieces of a puzzle. A puzzle so incomplete and intriguing.

Snape sighed, he needed far more than two pieces of a puzzle to know what it was about. He would barely admit it, but he couldn't wait for the third sketch


	3. The Third Sketch

The third piece was just plain bizarre, in his view. Severus stared at the blurred sight of the artist. Whoever it was had either terrible eyesight or was hiding their own identity, or possibly both. Severus stared at the parchment, as if he was waiting for it to speak to him. To tell him what it meant.

The picture was of the Quidditch stands from a broom, looking down at the spectators, the stands uncoloured and bland. The picture showed clear movement, downwards. Although it was clear that the artist wasn't diving or seemingly flying at all. Rather it appeared that they were flying forwards, towards something, something far far in the distance.

Severus looked at the picture, his black eyes trying to figure out the puzzle before him. Clearly the artist felt trapped, that much could be gleaned from the title. _Freedom in the Air._ But not much else, it certainly gave him no indication as to the artists name or identity. Nor his/her house or any affiliations they might have. It was damningly annoying. Snape loved puzzles as much as the next man, but this, this was almost too much.

Snorting to himself, Snape stalked inside, his face pensive and thoughtful. What did this all _mean_? Absent minded and thinking hard on other subjects, he added it to his growing collection in the top draw of his desk. He would think about it later, for now he had essays to mark.


	4. The Fourth Sketch

Severus spent the next several weeks hounding Quirrel for what he knew, playing the Bastard of the Dungeons with the brats that he had the misfortune to teach and also trying to keep precious Saint Potter from getting himself killed. Halloween, he decided, would probably kill him one year soon. Thus it was of no surprise that he found a picture several weeks after halloween, but what was surprising was that there was two.

The first was clearly the third floor corridor. The door to get to Fluffy was ajar and you could clearly see the slavering jaws of the Cerberus behind it. Ropes of saliva hung from the dull but thick teeth and the sheer detail indicated quite clearly that the student who had draw the picture had been up close and personal with the beast. Hell, he could even see the beasts individual whiskers!

But what truly surprised and worried him was the title: _Or Worse, Expelled_. Severus almost choked at that. How could expulsion be worse than death? Snape began to wonder at the artists sanity, not to mention their priorities!

The second piece of artwork was himself again, standing tall and proud in his classroom, his arms stretched wide and apparently welcoming. Hands clearly stained with Potions ingredients. But what drew the eye was the leg of his pants. They were ripped. His eyes also held pain and suffering. The picture had been named: _Misplaced Pride_. Severus scowled at that. Were they really questioning his personal preferences in avoiding the Hospital Wing. Was it truly pride to avoid the place that held so many bad memories? Clearly, according to them, it was. Snape huffed in annoyance. Arrogant brat. No doubt they were a _Gryffindor_!

Severus stalked off, leaving the pictures tacked to his door while he went in search for something alcoholic to drink. He would think on this later, for now he needed to gather his thoughts while fortifying himself before his next class.


	5. The Fifth Sketch

The fifth sketch nearly made Snape snarl and spew vitriol in such a way as to make him appear uncouth. The damn brat was challenging him! _Him_! Who would dare question him. The picture in and of itself was fine, he supposed grudgingly. But the title. That damn _title_ incriminated him.

_The Bully and The Bullied_; it said.

The picture was a hastily draw sketch of a tearful Longbottom huddled behind his couldron in his own class. Himself towering over the the boy, his face gleefully malicious and his body language angry and contemptuous. The rest of the students looked onsympathetic but frightened and unwilling to interrupt. Surely he wasn't truly like that? Surely he wasn't seen so bad?

Oh sure, he knew he was called the bat of the dungeons, the vampire of Slytherin. But no one had overtly criticized him. It was ridiculous to think that people truly hated him. Wasn't it?

Snape stood there, his thoughts racing around, surely only the pathetic Hufflepuff's thought him overly harsh. And it had been years since anyone had said anything against his methods. Surely he wasn't that bad. Longbottom was a coward and an idiot, he didn't know right from left.

Feeling justified, Snape snatched the parchment down and stalked inside, more than willing to look over the brats impudence for now. After all he had to favor the Slytherins, if only to save his own skin from the Dark Lord when he returned.

Severus sighed finally thinking that maybe the brat may have a point. He was unnaturally harsh to the other students if he was completely honest with himself. But he did have good reason, he decided. Thus he seated himself behind his desk feeling vindicated and justified in his behavior. It wasn't as though the students complained after all, he thought to himself mildly


	6. The Sixth Sketch

It was more than three weeks before he receive the sixth sketch, and if Severus was honest with himself he felt more than slightly upset that he'd received nothing from the unknown artist. Thus almost a week after Christmas, Snape felt more that slightly joyful at the sight of another sketch pinned to his door. Snatching it up quickly, Severus peered at the picture, curious for the next piece of the puzzle.

It was fairly simple. A large mirror elegantly decorated and simply made. The top was ornate but understated and it was clearly gold in colour. The top was inscribed with _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. Severus froze, he knew this mirror, and it's dangers. Why would a student know of it though? Had they found it? Gazing at the picture he saw nothing within the mirror, it was clean of any impressions of what the artist might desire, did that mean they didn't trust him with the knowledge? Or that they were perfectly happy? Or were unable to see anything because they were completely without hope or desire inside?

The title was clueless to him. _The Mirror._

Snape glared at the sketch, he knew it was a mirror, thank you very much. He also knew what it did. But what he wanted to know was how _they_ knew of it! Scowling he stalked off, stowing the sketch within his robes. Utterly ridiculous, he thought, he was _obsessed_ with a mysterious student and their pictures.

He could not be honest with himself to admit that the tangible curiousness and puzzling nature of the pictures was what drew him in. Not to mention the sheer irasicable and impudent nature of the student that dared tempt him with the pictures. Also the idea that a student was willing to flirt with danger and actually brave the dungeons and his wrath to fix a pictures to his door was intriguing in itself.

Obviously a Gryffindor, Severus thought, mildly pleased but annoyed. He couldn't possibly like a _Gryffindor_!


	7. The Seventh Sketch

As the school year progressed Snape received no more sketches, instead all he received were poorly written essays and exploded cauldrons. Not his idea of a fantastic time, and not for the first time he wondered exactly why he was teaching. Surely a get out of jail free card wasn't worth this torture. Even the _cruciatis_ curse hurt less, Snape was sure.

Thus it was, covered in some indescribably brown goop from his third year Ravenclaw and Slytherin potions class, Snape came across another sketch. The creamy parchment was hastily stuck to the door like the artist had heard his approach and ran for it like the devil himself was chasing him. Snape snorted at his own imagination. The very idea of him as the devil was fanciful at best, he was far worse than the devil.

Smirking to himself, Snape allowed himself to give into the temptation of curiosity and swept the piece of paper up into long fingered, and normally pale hands and pushed his way into his office. Casting a quick _scorgify_ charm upon himself and then seating himself behind his desk, Snape allowed his body to relax somewhat into his leather chair. Sighing, he casually held the parchment up and regarded it blankly. Surely not.

There in ink and pencil was a highly detailed picture of a baby dragon. It looked like a crumpled umbrella. Frail but dangerous, smoke curled from its nostrils and it's attention was fixed upon something outside the observers line of sight. Snape sat there and drank in the picture, drawing a blank upon its significance he looked at the title. He nearly choked.

"**_Norbert_**."

Who would name a dragon Norbert? Secondly, why would a student be in close contact with a dragon called Norbert. Three, why was he asking these questions? Groaning to himself and remonstrating his curiosity, Snape shoved the picture in the draw where the others sat and then turned his attention the the marking or worthless essays by the brats he taught. Snape once again started to think that Azkaban was a much more viable option than marking, because either one would kill him eventually. And frankly, Snape was certain that Azkaban would be less painful in the long run...


	8. The Eighth Sketch

Seven weeks, it had been seven weeks since the last sketch and Snape wasn't even sure why he even cared, all he knew was that he did. Oddly enough. And now, and now it was exam time. Snape was inwardly dancing at the thought of the next month or so absolutely student free. The very thought put a bounce in to his prowling step. A smile tugged at his lips as he sent his sixth years out with a well worded, scathing sentence about dunderheaded attempts to brew easy potions. It was a feeling sign of his good mood that he almost felt sorry for his words, almost, but not quite.

After dinner that night Snape practically skipped to his office, one last bit of marking, his first years unfortunately. That Granger Know-It-All brat had written a ridiculous amount, most of it was just reworded from the text books, not that there was anything wrong with that, but she really needed to learn to reference them. The only thing to give him pause was the sight of a pice of paper stuck to his door. Another one, Snape almost smiled. Almost, but not quite.

The picture was fairly simple, and annoyingly sweet, rustic and sentimental. Snape felt dirtied by just looking at it. Surely it was wrong to have one picture oozing such sentimentality. Shanking himself, Snape eyed the drawing caustically. It was done in the usual and typical rough hand, the lines both flowing and sharp. It was a picture of Hagrid seated at the front of his hut playing the pipe with Potter, Weasley and Granger seated beside him shelling peas. How trite.

Stalking inside, Snape ignored the title, it didn't make any sense whatsoever anyway. Instead, good mood shattered, Snape cracked open a bottle of Odgen's finest and drank a shot or two. He slapped the paper down ignoring it as he then turned his attention to shredding Grangers carefully constructed arguments that did actually have some merit. In the light of the fire, Snape quickly and meanly wrecked more than one dream of potions making as an unidentifiable emotion welled up inside of him.

"**_The First_**"


	9. Author Note

To My Wonderful and Loyal Readers,

This fiction is no longer being updated, for whatever reason I am uninspired to finish this. If you think, or would like to complete it, please message me about adopting it.

Kind Regards,

Author AHBK1


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